


The World Inside Out

by alltoseek



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: AU, Genderbending, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a sequel to astolat's <i>The World Turned Upside Down</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [esteven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteven/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The World Turned Upside Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/638697) by [astolat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/pseuds/astolat). 



> Many, many, many thanks to my very, very, very patient (and thorough!) beta, feroxargentea.
> 
> I began writing this several years ago as a thank you to esteven, who made a very generous donation to [Grays Harbor Historical Seaport](http://historicalseaport.org) of Washington St, USA; which operates the tall ships _Lady Washington_ and _Hawaiian Chieftain_ for maritime history education and recreation.
> 
> esteven is also very patient :-)

The Bay of Biscay, homeward bound. Grey heaving seas, white froth on the tips of the waves. A north-western gale whipped up the western rollers, causing a corkscrew motion in the ship's progress. In his cabin the captain awoke and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his cot. His stomach immediately protested; as it was empty, it registered its protests through heaving and dry retches. 

"Hell and death," said Jack, "not again!" He turned to glare balefully at the doctor, who was just waking. “Did you not say that you could keep this from happening?”

“I believe I said there were methods that employed might reduce the chance of pregnancy, joy, but you must allow I warned you that nothing short of abstinence would eliminate the possibility entirely.”

Jack, unsurprisingly, had not been interested in that option, and did not pursue the discussion now. “Well,” he said, his natural cheerfulness reasserting itself as the wave of nausea passed, “I survived this once; it should be even easier the second time. I shall know what to expect.”

He did not. To his amazement, it seemed each pregnancy could be different from the last. He suffered much more from nausea; hungry all the time, yet with no appetite once food was set in front of him. Although his diet had been reduced to plain ship's biscuit, broth and whatever soup Stephen, Killick, and the cook could contrive to get him to consume, he seemed to fill out much more rapidly than he remembered doing the previous time, and not just in his belly, where the baby was growing. His breeches became so tight about the hips that he could no longer wear them, but had to resort to trousers cut especially loose. His darted jackets would no longer button over his breasts, which, generous though they had been previously, now swelled uncomfortably, sometimes even painfully. His back hurt, too, and it hurt unceasingly. It simply was not _fair_.

Worse even than the physical effects were the wild variations in his mood, disconcerting to one accustomed to an even temperament. Oh, it had always been true that he could at times become frustrated by circumstance, be provoked to anger, experience a rush of joy upon a pleasurable event or hearing good news, but generally much of his day, from waking to the instant fall of sleep, was spent in a fairly pleasant frame of mind, and why should it not be? He was a post-captain of the Royal Navy, returning home from a moderately successful voyage, with work enough to occupy his hands and mind yet not to overpress him with anxiety, and above all he was afloat with his best friend, his life's companion. So why must he succumb to irritation at trivialities? Why did tears come unbidden at awkward moments? And why sometimes did a sudden rush of ecstasy at simply _being alive_ flood him with emotion so overwhelming that he would become dizzy and need to hold the rail to stay upright?

When the doctor inquired in depth as to his health, the captain dutifully reported his symptoms, but otherwise he tried to refrain from dwelling on them or making excuses for himself. Fate had turned him female, and there was naught to be done about it. His and Stephen's love had blessed them with this child; others had borne much worse – _he_ had borne much worse – and he could bear this too.

~o~o~o~

A cry of sail at first light. No great surprise, this close to the chops of the channel, and no great excitement either, as it was much more likely to be a British or allied vessel than a potential prize. So it proved, and some bells later the captain retired to the great cabin to read eagerly over the letters from home obtained from the spoken packet, having asked the premier to distribute the rest.

“Ah, Stephen, there you are!” cried Jack at second breakfast, with a gleam in his bright blue eye that the doctor had not observed for some weeks. Since the discovery of his condition, in truth. “Did you see this?” Jack pointed to the article in the _Transactions_ he had been reading. “A fellow in the Royal Society says he may have found a cure! A way to turn people like me back to our original form!”

“Yes, my dear, I did indeed look over that most interesting report.” Stephen did not mention that he had been in correspondence with the gentleman himself for some months about the possible treatment. “Would there be coffee, at all?” Drinking a cup of the invigorating brew, and enjoying a slice of toast generously slathered with jam, Stephen watched as Jack eagerly pored over the journal.

“I beg you will not refine too much upon this hope, upon this slim meagre grasping chance of a so-called 'cure',” he said.

Jack looked up, a little surprised. “According to this report, his initial results have been promising.”

“By 'promising' he means that his patients have not died. Or have not died yet, I should say.”

“Oh. I thought it said here that they were even changing back.”

“Yes, yes,” continued Stephen impatiently. “In some cases the individuals treated lost those anatomical attributes, those indicators of sex, that they were not born with, but there has been no evidence of their regaining their original characteristics. To be rendered neither male nor female, not a man nor a woman, but some androgynous ambivalent halfway creature of no defined form does not strike me as a tolerable outcome.”

“No, indeed – that would be most distressing, without a doubt.” Jack looked down at his half-consumed breakfast with even less appetite than usual. The gleam that had brightened the blue of his eyes had faded.

Stephen softened his harsh grating voice as best he could. “In your current condition, joy, the exhibition of any such course of physic would be most inadvisable.”

“Of course, of course, to be sure,” Jack replied, smiling into the doctor's eyes. “For the delivery, I expect to be on land – we will be home in a matter of days – and this time I intend to engage a wet-nurse. Perhaps by then the development of the cure will be farther along.”

“Perhaps.”

“You've no notion – ” began Jack.

Stephen waited expectantly.

“– how pleased so many of the afflicted will be, if a cure is found, I mean. Some officers have never been reconciled to their new shapes, you know. Lieutenants who are now female have so much less hope of promotion, unless they are strangely fortunate in patronage or circumstances, and many mids turned female have given up hope of ever being passed for lieutenant, regardless of how well they know their profession.”

“Certainly the prejudice against having females in positions of authority remains unabated, despite so many 'women' having been men previously.”

“It ain't just that, Stephen.” The doctor looked expectantly at him again, but Jack just shook his head. He had interrupted himself earlier because expressing his own strong desire to return to male form was too much like complaining, and he now found himself unable to explain his own vague feelings of having lost the edge of his effectiveness as a fighting captain. In their last few engagements he had not experienced that bright fierce joy in fighting that had always carried him through battles before, but instead a grim determination to win with minimal loss of life. The difference was not entirely negative: though he might not have wielded his own weapon with the same raging strength, the same single-minded violence of purpose, he seemed to think more clearly; he kept an encompassing view of the engagement instead of focussing narrowly on his own fight within it. 

“Maybe I'm growing old,” he thought. Perhaps this was what being an admiral was like: seeing the whole fleet at once, instead of fighting at a personal level. Yet he could not dismiss the sense that it was tied to being female. Even before the pregnancy, he could _feel_ the strength draining from his arms, a little more every day. At his core he felt no different in his interests, his opinions, his skills; but sometimes the feelings in his body would take him by surprise. At the hint of battle a ball of dread coiled in his belly, instead of the sharp prick of excitement; and when he took a calculated risk, a sweat of fear assailed him instead of confident relief in making his decision. If these were signs of a growing maturity, he wanted no part of it.

At the base of it all was the pervading sense of _wrongness_ in his own body. Every time he woke up, it was almost like inhabiting the skin of another person, with odd lumps in some places, missing bits in others. Jack still felt lucky in some ways: he had the consolation of Stephen's thorough enjoyment of his new shape, and his own delight in their mutual pleasure was as great as any he had experienced before the change. Yet his body continued to feel strange to him. Like having a temporary command of another captain's ship, it never felt entirely _his_.

Stephen had been silent during Jack's meditation, making his own way through the meal. Now he said, “You spoke of being at home for the delivery. Was there not a promise of the _Blackwater_ on the North American station? Will you not be back at sea within a month or two?”

“There was such talk, yes, but you know that has been promised before, and fallen through. The Admiralty ain't likely to give me another command now, not with me in this condition.”

Stephen pondered. The captain spoke easily enough, expressing no disappointment at the loss of the much-anticipated commission, but Stephen recalled Jack's imperfectly concealed resentment of Peter's untimely arrival, and was aware of the captain's ability to appear (at times) unaffected by the slings of outrageous Fate, when they were beyond his control. “My dear, I am most concerned if the child should hamper your chances of advancement.”

He was rewarded with the sight of Jack’s singularly sweet smile. “Do not distress yourself, soul. This commission has gone well enough that I expect another opportunity will arise in the future. Meanwhile I will enjoy having time to spend with Sophie and Di and the children.” Jack smiled inwardly, one hand resting on the bump of his belly.

Stephen noted the gesture and made up his mind. “Jack, I do not like to cause unnecessary worry, yet I have been considering another pertinent recent medical finding. It would appear that the pregnancies of turned women terminate early more often than is the general case, as many as three or four out of ten being unsuccessful.”

The captain listened carefully, but seemed unperturbed. “Peter was perfectly healthy. Surely, then, we have no need to worry ourselves.”

“No need at all, my dear, at all. Merely to be prepared.”

“Indeed, I hope not. I have already grown rather attached.”

Jack's pregnancy proceeded apace, until it was long past the point at which Stephen considered the concern relevant. Apace, also, grew Jack's girth, so that upon arrival at Woolcombe his condition was impossible to ignore.

They were greeted cheerfully by Sophie, who was touchingly excited about the prospect of another baby. Privately Jack had been concerned about foisting yet another wholly unrelated child upon Sophie and Diana, and had been considering whether he had perhaps best entrust it to another's care, but Sophie would not hear of this, assuming that naturally all Jack's children would grow up together under her loving and careful eye.

Stephen's daughter Brigid also resided at Woolcombe, where she resisted Sophie's efforts to turn her into a graceful young lady, preferring instead the various outdoor pursuits engaged in by her numerous, now all male, cousins and half-brother. In these activities she was encouraged by her indulgent Mama-Papa, Diana, who even as a female had loved riding, hunting, and driving; and now rejoiced in the lack of restrictions that came with her new form. “Of what use to Brigid is netting a purse?” Di reasoned with Sophie. “She most likely will find shooting a much more valuable skill than embroidery.” Di was content to leave most of the mothering of Brigid to Sophie, but would not support her in forcing a ladylike education upon the girl. “All the important manners and elegance of our station belong equally to ladies and gentlemen, and Brigid will study languages and geography and the rest along with her cousins. She need not sit primly reading her Bible or hemming a handkerchief all afternoon whilst her cousins are fencing and riding.”

As Brigid was a willful, headstrong child and knew that Sophie was not her “real” mother, without Diana's support Sophie could not exert enough authority in this area. Mrs Williams having gone to live in Bath (to the great relief of all, even Sophie, as her mother's constant strictures on the unnatural and hideous state of affairs that now prevailed in the household wore on everyone's nerves intolerably), Sophie was now the last bastion of gentle femininity in the home, and though usually she did not mind this in the least, she did at times find it a little lonely, and would have loved a daughter to raise as a lady.

She knew that she would find no ally in Stephen, even when he was at home; as long as Brigid was healthy, happy, and acquiring at least some education and a sense of proper morals, the details of her upbringing were not an area in which he felt qualified to interfere. Indeed, the naturalising explorations he loved to make with his daughter were not at all what Sophie would consider especially lady-like.

“... and thus the beetles will fly off together, still conjoined,” Stephen explained to his daughter Brigid, as they lay in the dry meadow of Simmon's Lea.

Brigid watched pensively for a moment, then jumped up and strode off. Her father followed her, taking her hand as they continued their walk through the commons.

“Papa,” asked Brigid a few steps later, “When will I turn into a boy?”

~o~

“Stephen,” said Jack that evening, as they prepared for bed, “What do you say to a visit up to town? There are one or two fellows at the Admiralty I should like to speak with, and we can attend the Royal Society meeting and perhaps some concerts as well.”

“I should be most happy to go to London, my dear, so long as you should be comfortable there.”

“Oh, yes, well, as to comfort, certainly nothing is quite so homey as, well, as home. But there can be a little too much domestic bliss, here, at times.”

“I understand you perfectly, joy. Indeed, as much as I value my time with Brigid, I had the most distressingly awkward conversation with her this afternoon.”

~o~o~o~

Diana also was in London on business. She had thrown herself wholeheartedly into financial matters, having lost any constraints imposed by society upon becoming male. She appeared utterly comfortable with her new sex, Jack thought with a touch of suppressed envy. She wore men's clothes, exquisitely tailored in a tastefully fashionable manner, grew elegant sideburns and moustaches, and encouraged her acquaintance to refer to her by her surname and use masculine pronouns.

The captain and the doctor having each a variety of concerns to take them to London, Villiers and Stephen were enjoying a smoke in the doctor's rooms at the Grapes when his former spouse turned to the topic of the day. 

“Maturin,” Villiers said, “what is this I hear about a cure? The whole of London is talking about it, and yet I do not know anyone who has actually taken it.”

Stephen pursed his lips. Despite his expression of his misgivings and his professional recommendations of cautious and thorough trials before general application, use of the new treatment had expanded throughout the country and internationally. Stephen summarised his reservations to Villiers, although he was forced to acknowledge that the earliest patients to have been successfully cured were now showing signs of regaining their original sexual characteristics.

“I don't like it either,” said Villiers frankly. “No offence, dear Maturin, but I've no notion of ever returning to the restrictions of womanhood. With all this talk of a cure, the Government will surely be determined to reinstate all the original laws regarding men's and women's roles.”

Jack had heard rumblings too, at the Admiralty. From avoidance to granting commissions to female officers, there was now talk of an outright ban again. Regulations had already been modified to prevent naturally-born women from becoming Naval officers at any level.

“I know you don't like it, brother,” said Jack one evening, making Stephen wince internally at the endearment. He had earlier tried to convince Jack to abandon it, the incestuous overtones unappealing to him, but the habit was too firmly engrained in his spouse, and he'd given up the effort. “But it looks like I shall have to take this cure once the child is born, otherwise I'll be forced to leave the Navy altogether.” As bad as being female was for Jack, being struck off the list again would be infinitely worse. Frankly, Jack would prefer death. Whatever the side-effects of the treatment, he was willing to risk them to remain a Captain in the Royal Navy.

London was dull, dismal and depressing. Usually Jack thoroughly enjoyed the constant interactions with his fellow creatures; the chance to meet with old friends and make new; opportunities to catch up on news throughout the Naval and civilian world. The opportunity to attend meetings of the Royal Society, musical concerts, sessions of Parliament all beckoned to him strongly; and reminded him why living at sea, delightful as it was, could not be his entire life.

Unfortunately his own personal news announced itself unavoidably everywhere he went, and most of his acquaintance seemed intent on making it the centre of their interactions with him. They were kind enough to his face, congratulatory and mostly tactful, yet he felt their smirks following him. It was as if he were no longer Captain Jack Aubrey, RN, MP, FRS, but reduced to being merely the vessel of a new human being.

He was about to depart from Black's, feeling the recriminatory glares of the older members, who though resigned to admitting members turned women, still felt that the club should be a place of refuge from all things _feminine_ , which included anything at all related to children and the bearing thereof; when he caught the eye of Captain Gore, who smiled and nodded at his former commodore – a clear invitation. Jack hesitated, thought _Oh, bugger the shrivelled-up old prudes_ , and joined the captain at his small table in the window.

“How d'ye do, Gore?” Jack asked genially. “You are looking very well.”

The other man positively beamed back at him. “I am doing well, thank you, sir. Excellently well! Never better!” He leant conspiratorially towards Jack. “I took the cure,” he added, _sotto voce_.

Jack's eyes widened as he gaped slightly. “Did you, now,” he breathed. “How – how was it?”

“I was sick as a dog for weeks,” Gore confided, his smile abating not at all. “But it was worth it. Absolutely worth it! Never could stand being female, not a bit of it. Now that's all gone; all behind me. I feel entirely myself again; haven't felt so good in _years_.”

Jack smiled back, nodding in understanding. Gore looked confident, comfortable in his own skin in a way Jack hadn't seen throughout their long campaign in the Baltic. “I was overjoyed myself, when I first heard about it. But my doctor don't like it – he had some concerns.”

“Yes,” replied Gore, turning serious. “I understand them. The change doesn't happen as quickly with the cure as with the disease. I lost the female parts right away; but the male parts are taking longer to come back.” Seeing Jack's frown he leant in again, whispering. “But it's growing – I've measured it, and it's definitely growing.” Jack's frown of concern turned to puzzlement. “You know that nub we have – that all women have, it seems.” Jack nodded. “Well, it's growing. I'm sure it'll grow back, just the way it should be – like a man's, like it was before.” Gore sat back, smiling triumphantly.

Jack smiled in return, trying not to let his horror show. Stephen's words came back to him – _androgynous ambivalent halfway creature_ – now with a meaning behind them he'd not imagined before.

“But that's not even so important.” Gore waved a hand dismissively. “It's waking up every morning as a _man_. And with Mrs. Gore.” His smile took on a gentler aspect. “She was spared before. We were forced to part. Now she has taken me back. Perhaps we'll not have any more children, but,” the dismissive gesture again, “that doesn't matter. The world is _right_ once more.”

As Jack's own expression grew genuinely pleased, into his mind came a brief image of his own world turned right, male himself once again, married to his lovely Sophie, at sea again, nothing to fear from the Admiralty... The baby shifted inside him, and the image dissolved. Sophie was married elsewhere now, and he had his own Stephen. Of course he'd had Stephen by his side before; he couldn't imagine life without him, now or ever. 

Gore was still talking. He seemed to be concerned his words might have given some offence to Jack, still obviously female and apparently not wholly lacking in enjoyment of the form. “Of course it might have been different, if I'd had someone who could have stayed with me – especially one who could have sailed with me. I remember feeling fortunate at least to still have my command. I'd felt as though everything else had been taken from me.”

Jack reassured him of his complete understanding and took his leave, his thoughts still meandering. Stephen had his reservations about the treatment, and now Jack understood them a little better. He had Stephen, and he had this child growing inside him, whom he strangely did not resent. He felt more the miracle of it, the wonder of being able to grow an entirely new human being inside his own body. His thoughts drifted to the future. By the time the baby was born, more would be known about the long term effects of the cure. If he could be male again, and still on the list, still climbing inevitably up to the top, to promotion to Admiral, still sailing, Stephen still his surgeon, of course, when not engaged in his less-advertised activities, still playing duets together; well, perhaps his world could be right again, too.

But delivery was weeks, months away. As more officers followed Gore's example and underwent the treatment, the clamouring at the Admiralty grew louder. Those weeks seemed to stretch out infinitely far. 

The day the announcement came was coincidentally a day when Jack received no fewer than five solicitous invitations to rest himself comfortably: _please, here, take my seat._ Jack could bear it no longer. 

“Stephen,” he said wearily at the end of the day, over a comfortable fire and toasted cheese, aching back braced by the downiest pillows the Grapes could offer and swollen ankles propped up gratefully. “Stephen, my dear, let us return to Woolcombe, whenever it is convenient for you.”

“Yes, certainly, on the morrow if you wish, joy.” Stephen looked over the captain closely, noting the lines of frustration etched there now which had not been visible the previous day. “Has something occurred to trouble you, my dear?”

Jack sighed, debated, but there was no point hiding it – all would be public soon. “After the first of the year, no more commissions will be given to any women, born or turned. Female post-captains will remain on the list, but their seniority will be frozen until such a time as they may be cured. If I wish to stay active in the Navy, brother, I'll have to undergo this treatment.”

Stephen frowned. “The first of the year, you say?”

“Yes.” Jack mustered up a reassuring smile. “There's plenty of time – my delivery is well before. The thing is,” Jack hesitated, then pressed on, “the thing is, more people are taking the cure, and there doesn't seem to be much in the way of negative effects. At least not outwardly visible,” he added hastily. “Not that the old desk-bound paper-pushers making decisions at the Admiralty can see. If there turns out to be some terrible consequence of the treatment, they can reverse the decision.”

Stephen looked dissatisfied, and pursed his lips, thinking inwardly of desk-bound paper-pushers making decisions that more properly fell under the province of men of science and medicine. Outwardly he turned a more composed face to Jack. “You are right, joy, there is no need to worry ourselves unduly at this time. Let us return to Woolcombe and leave politics behind.”


	2. Chapter 2

Return they did, and Jack was heartily glad he need not travel again until he'd delivered. The nausea had inexplicably returned during the journey, which was unavoidably jolting even in the most well-sprung chaise. The ache in the lumbar region woke every old injury until his entire back felt aflame, and as he slept instantly and soundly at night, he could not sleep by day but had to endure every minute of the agony on the road.

Rest at home did restore his equanimity, at least until his girth, back aches, and doctor's orders confined him to the house and brief walks about the garden. Whilst he still could, he enjoyed riding about the countryside, villagers nothing but respectful and happy to see him at Woolcombe, and his acquaintances among the gentry greeting him cheerfully.

At home he found a surprisingly sympathetic ear in Sophie, who also provided comfort where she could without coddling. Why he should be surprised at her sympathy, he did not know; she had endured the travails of child-bearing herself, as he well knew. Yet even though he knew, having been present, that the delivery of the twins had been difficult, he now realised she had kept much of the other routine burdens of pregnancy from him. During their frequent afternoon chats in the sitting room, Jack ensconced in his favorite chair, she was voluble in her understanding of his own challenges, as well as relating some of her experiences. He found himself confiding much more to her than he'd intended, she having guessed at most of it without him saying a word.

Perhaps surprising was how comfortable he felt in their new relationship. The passionate romantic attachment to her he'd formed during their long courtship had naturally mellowed over the course of their marriage, but each had still retained the possessiveness encouraged by their nuptial binding. Their legal sundering upon his alteration had felt meaningless to him initially; convenient marriages aside, they still belonged to each other. 

Now, yes, that feeling of belonging still remained; she lived in his house, she was mother to his children (whether hers by birth or not); they were still family, but in a way not easily defined. Their conversations were almost sisterly, yet not; somewhat like husband-and-wife, yet not; nor yet in-law nor cousins. It was too difficult to define: he let it drop, and enjoyed the comfort of her presence as his confinement made him increasingly querulous and irritable.

Playing with young Peter was another pleasure, as the nurse would relieve him of the toddler's presence when necessary. Peter was fascinated by his father's big belly, absorbed in trying to feel the kicking of the baby inside it, eyes growing wide when he did. His incomprehensible babbling appeared mostly aimed at understanding the situation, or possibly trying to talk to his young sibling inside. Sophie often came upon Jack and Peter asleep in the same massive armchair, Jack sprawled upon the chair and ottoman, Peter curled up in his arm, nestling against his belly.

The weeks from stretching out so infinitely this way grew fewer and fewer, until at long last the delivery was upon him. This went as smoothly as his first had, leaving the man-midwife in attendance with little to do except bustle about officiously. A boy, perfectly healthy, perfectly normal, as handsome as Peter, with slightly lighter eyes and somewhat darker hair.

~o~o~o~

Stephen had spent their time on land in a multitude of pursuits, some personal, regarding management of his own estate affairs; some concerning his contributions to the war against tyranny (and incidentally trying to keep the name and interest of Aubrey alive amongst the potentially influential in the Admiralty); and mostly in learning and researching what he could about the 'cure' for the afflicted, and the health of those who were pregnant and their children. Excepting the higher rate of miscarriages, the turned were no more likely to suffer from any ill effects of childbearing than born women, nor were their children more prone to disease or defects.

As for the cure, the results looked better and better, much to Stephen's consternation. As the treatment continued to be refined, the patients endured less discomfort, whilst still receiving the benefits. It was true that a few became too ill to continue the treatment, but they appeared not have suffered permanent injury, except, of course, remaining turned. The occasional reports of the treatment resulting in death to the patient, all uniformly decried by their physicians as having ignored directions and dosed themselves improperly, were at any rate too few to deter those determined to return to their natural form. When one of the first successfully cured patients was reported as having got his reunited wife with child, Stephen gave up hope.

The best he could do now was try to delay the inevitable. He and Jack were lying in their bed late one evening, Jack providing the last evening nursing. A smile lingered on his lips as he watched the baby suckling. With few other pressing duties, and weeks of domestic habit and comfort, Jack had readily agreed to Stephen's suggestion that he nurse at least the first week before turning the child over to a wet nurse. Prepared this time and used to the idea, Jack found it not so unpleasant after all.

Stephen curled one arm behind Jack and the other came around to stroke the child's soft hair. “You do not seem so very distressed, joy.”

“No, not at all, love,” smiled Jack, giving Stephen a quick kiss. “'Tis much easier, the children, when you've a nurse to take them when they become troublesome.” And have Stephen to myself for the night, he thought inwardly, his smile increasing.

“If Peter's nurse can care also for young Kevin, perhaps we have no need for a wet-nurse?”

“What can you mean?” said Jack, astonished. “Nurse him myself for a year or more? I think not. Why, I hope to be at sea long before he's weaned. And I need to take the cure soon. I intend to be fully recovered before the first, you know.”

Stephen's heart clenched and his arms tightened involuntarily around Jack. He forced himself to relax. “As you say, my dear. I make the suggestion merely as I find in my research that children nursed by their own parents remain healthier and grow stronger and more intelligent.”

“Yes, yes, so you have mentioned. And I did agree to a week. But Stephen, this can't continue. And look at little Kevin here. Can you imagine anything more perfect?” Jack's voice lowered to a coo and his fingers came up to stroke the rosy cheeks. Indeed, the babe was the exact picture of health. No Madonna-held child ever appeared more cherubic. “I cannot think that another's milk can be so much worse than mine, so long as she is healthy herself, of course.”

“Of course.” The wet-nurse they had engaged came from a somewhat impoverished but thoroughly respectable family, which had lived in the village for generations out of mind. Their impoverishment resulted primarily from their fecundity, making their well-grown robust young matrons ideal wet-nurses for the surrounding gentry. Stephen sighed.

Jack turned concerned eyes on him. “I know you still are worried for me, brother. I won't tell you not to be, although I'm sure I will be fine. But you must admit, there really is no other choice.”

 _I admit nothing,_ thought Stephen. Out loud he said merely, “Good night, my dear,” and turned away to sleep. Or rather to pretend to sleep, until Jack's snores filled the room, and Stephen slipped out to pace the night in anxious thought.

~o~o~o~

A week later, the specialist down from London purposely to prescribe the physic for Jack, it was the captain's turn to be anxious. That evening, after Stephen had interrogated his colleague in his mild yet penetrative fashion, he and Jack retired to their room for the night.

“Well?” asked Jack, as carelessly as he could manage. “Will he do?”

“He appears to know his business,” said Stephen, dissatisfied, mouth turned down.

Jack looked into his eyes. “You will remain with me whilst I undergo the treatment?” Jack asked anxiously, all attempt at unconcern thrown out.

Stephen mustered what reassurance he could. “Of course, my dear, naturally.”

The next morning Jack took the first dose with breakfast. The day passed rather anti-climatically. A dose accompanied each meal. Jack felt slightly disturbed in his stomach, but nothing like the morning sickness recently endured. That night he was preparing for bed when Stephen came in and bade him good night, then made to leave again.

“But where are you going?” asked Jack, surprised. “You said you would stay with me.”

Stephen closed his eyes. “My dear, in taking the cure, you are returning to male form.” He opened his eyes to focus on a point some way beyond Jack's left shoulder. “Our marriage – ” he couldn't help it; he hesitated – “It will no longer be valid. It would be improper for us to continue in the same room, in this house.”

Realisation dawned over Jack, along with the beginnings of something like horror, but he thrust that away. “But not yet,” he cried. “I'm still – ” he looked down at himself – “I haven't changed at all.” He left the 'yet' unsaid, hanging in the air. “It might not take – what if I become ill in the night? Stephen, please,” he said, stretching out an arm.

Stephen moved the few steps to take his hand. “Very well, love. A few nights more.”

The next few days passed much like the first, Jack feeling more and more poorly and tired. He slept more, and had to be coaxed into eating, both doctors insisting that food was essential for successful treatment. With little to do but obsess about his body, Jack was convinced that his feminine curves were shrinking, returning to a more masculine outline. But then he sighed, reflecting that since giving birth and then ceasing breast-feeding his body has been continually changing. It was impossible to ascribe any one reason for it.

The morning of the fourth day, his face itched when he awoke. He turned to ask Stephen about it – Was a rash a common symptom? What did it mean? – but found he was alone in the bed. He rose and crossed the room to Stephen's shaving mirror. A very Jack-like face looked out at him, complete with morning stubble. “I need a shave,” he said muzzily, running a hand over his rough chin. A shave! With an enormous grin – a brilliant second morning sun – he sought out his family to announce the wonderful news.

That evening, however, his brow darkened liked the setting of the sun. “Your scruples are absurd!” he exclaimed.

“Jack, my dear,” said Stephen. He gazed at the window behind Jack, black as night, the drapes not yet drawn. “We must accept the change in our situation that your return to health – your so welcome restoration to your natural form – brings along in its wake.”

Jack paced the room angrily. “You said you would stay with me during the treatment – through the _whole_ treatment.”

“And so I shall, joy. I am moving down the hall only, not out of the house.”

Jack nodded slowly, still frowning. “I don't like it, Stephen.”

“Nor do I, my dear. Nor do I.”

~o~o~o~

Two weeks later and the specialist from London was preparing to return to the city. “You must finish the course of physic, sir. Take the draughts just as you have been for the next three days. This will prevent the illness resurfacing – too often we have been hasty in our declaration of the disease vanquished and ceased the dosing – disastrous mistake! Disastrous! However, my presence is no longer required here. You have suffered no ill affects from the physic – solely minor, temporary inconveniences, no more. Your recovery is clearly established and unmistakable. Congratulations, my dear sir! Congratulations on your return to natural health!”

All inhabitants of Woolcombe were pleased to see the physician move on to treat the numerous others anxious to try the cure. Dr Brenner was eminently qualified and civilised company, but somewhat louder, more voluble, and overly confident than was quite comfortable in a household already filled with noisy, talkative, and self-assertive individuals.

Less pleasing was Stephen's announcement the next day that he too would be travelling to London in a couple days' time, with the intention of joining Drs Fleming, Brenner, and others in the on-going efforts to cure all the afflicted who clamoured for treatment.

“Stephen!” cried Jack at the breakfast table. “So soon? I am just now recovered – at long last feeling like myself again.”

“I'm sorry to desert you this way, joy,” replied Stephen. “However, you are indeed recovered. With your example of the benefits this treatment can bring, my profession recalls me to my duty. Between providing the cure to the afflicted and treating illness and injury as occurs in the ordinary way of life, there are hardly adequate numbers of physicians in all Britain to attend to the needful. In addition, the opportunity of studying this new type of physic and the transformation of the afflicted back to their natural state is one no serious disciple of natural philosophy could refuse.” 

“Stephen,” cried Sophie, walking in the garden, “must you? So soon?”

“Yes, my dear. You may soon find it uncomfortable enough, living in the home of an unmarried gentleman, even respectably married as you are yourself. I'm afraid two single gentlemen, even with Villiers here as often as possible, would prove too much to be tolerated by the gossips and busybodies of the world.” 

Stephen proved unfortunately prophetic. True to Jack's blithe, sanguine nature, content to let others live as they might whilst he managed his own affairs, he ignored as often as he could any odd looks, titters, or muttered grumbles. When unavoidable reproaches were finally made, he lashed out in defence of Mrs Villiers' honor – “As honest and respectable a gentlewoman as ever lived! The very own mother of my children! Am I to throw her and my sons out of their own home? Ridiculous! Utter absurdity!”

At the same time as he protested any lack of propriety, inwardly he wondered about the potential for a basis of truth. Sophie and Diana seemed happy together, as near as he could tell, especially whilst Di was at home. They never argued, Sophie said, but “engaged in spirited debate”. Whilst Jack continued to be somewhat confused as to the difference, he did note that their arguments tended to end in laughter, rather than tears and slammed doors. Neither backed down before the other, and their "debates" typically left off where they started: Sophie enjoying her way with the children and household matters; Diana hers with her equine, social, and financial affairs.

Yet in Jack's new stage of relations with Sophie, she had been as unreserved in sharing the trials of marriage to Di as she had in the tribulations of pregnancy. Sophie's one major failing – her tendency towards an unreasoning jealousy – had not abated in her new marriage, and she was full of painful ideas about Diana's many and varied engagements both locally and in London, where Di visited with regularity. At Jack's tentative inquires Sophie could produce nothing more than vague worries, but that was enough to provide Jack with doubts about the security of the underlying attachment between them. 

As much as he enjoyed Woolcombe and his children, particularly as he had the funds to provide adequately for the restoration of the one and comfort of the others, Jack felt the pull of London and the Admiralty, and gave into his own restlessness. With his body returned to its masculine shape (as near as anyone could tell whilst he was clothed), he was eager also to demonstrate in person his health, vigour and suitability for command.

Naturally, the other draw of the city was Stephen's residence there, but Jack found he saw very little of his friend. They had always moved about in somewhat separate circles in town – Jack's oriented around the Navy, of course; Stephen catching up with his large acquaintance in philosophical and political spheres – yet typically they came across each other at Black's, at various general social engagements amongst their large number of mutual friends, even just walking about town or the park. If nowhere else, Stephen could be found in Green Park or St. James, or even one of the smaller parks, contemplating upon the numerous species of birds that made their homes there.

Their first argument occurred at the Grapes, where Stephen still maintained his apartment, and Jack had always joined him there during their marriage. Stephen was out when Jack arrived, so the captain headed out himself, to find friends at Black's. When Jack returned, he found Stephen instructing Mrs. Broad to restow Jack's things.

"Why, Stephen, what is this?" cried Jack.

"My dear, Jack," said Stephen wearily. "You must realise that just as I could not continue at Woolcombe, you cannot stay here at the Grapes, where I am known to reside when in town."

"How absurd you are! I do not know any such thing." Part of Jack's mind noticed Stephen's drawn, lined, gaunt face. He continued, "We've shared quarters as bachelors numerous times! Why should now be any different?"

 _Why indeed,_ thought Stephen, even as he flinched inwardly. "Unfortunately the world, the censorious salacious prurient society of those who call themselves gentlemen and gentlewomen, the arbiters of correct proper decent behavior, will disagree with your straightforward and sensible argument, I am very much afraid."

Jack's brow had lowered thunderously during this speech, and now he paced agitatedly through the room. "This is absurd!" he repeated. "As men we could live together without thought nor concern for any others' opinion; when I turned female you insisted upon marriage – and you were right, my dear, nothing suited us so well – and now we are both men again we can neither be married nor reside together? This is complete nonsense! Why should we worry so, in any case, about what society may say? Hang 'em, the whole bloody lot them, the scandalmongers!"

Stephen smiled slightly. "You have come to town to see about a ship, yes?"

"Yes," Jack said, deflating. "I suppose that answers my own question. Very well, brother, I will take a room at Black's. But I don't like it."

 _Nor do I, my love, nor do I_.

Upon departing Black's, Jack had believed he would still see Stephen frequently, dining together at Black's or the Grapes, attending musical concerts, perhaps occasionally at the card table. However, evidently Stephen felt his duty to his patients strongly, as he had indicated to Jack back at Woolcombe, for he seemed to partake of no recreation at all, that Jack saw.

~o~o~o~

Dr Maturin did partake of some forms of relaxation, even if these mild activities could not be classified as recreation, precisely. Villiers found him in the smoking room of the club. “Maturin! How do you do? I have not seen you this age and more. You look quite dreadful, you know. Does treating the ill require you to go to your own grave early?”

“Villiers. I am well enough. You look magnificent, as usual.” 

“Thank you,” Villiers said smugly. “I feel excellent as well, perfectly healthy. I have no need to undergo any treatments, no courses of physic, thank God! I wonder how many of your patients are turned men desiring to be women again. For myself I have no interest at all in becoming cabin'd, crib'd and confin'd once more.”

Stephen inclined his head. “Nor should anyone feel compelled to undergo this so-called 'cure', if they are content as they are.”

Villiers' lips pursed. “Have you heard this talk of Aubrey remarrying Sophie? Has he forgotten she is already married?”

“Perhaps you should remind him.”

Villiers shrugged. “Oh, if Sophie is so keen to return to him, who am I to stand in their way?”

Stephen had no response to make to this. 

“What about you, Maturin? Will you dance at their wedding?”

Stephen looked away. “I expect to be traveling to America soon. The plague is still claiming new victims there. Several of us hope to treat victims during the illness, to prevent their changing, or dying.”

Villiers watched him under hooded eyes. “How very noble of you, to be sure.”

Stephen leant back in his chair, eyes closed. “I have always liked America. The opportunities for naturalising, for making new discoveries, are very nearly endless.”

They smoked companionably together for a moment before Villers spoke again, “I tell you what it is, Maturin: We have been damned convenient for the Aubreys. For as long as they required us.” 

Stephen rose and went to the door. “Good day to you now, Villiers.”

“Take care of yourself, Maturin. There is no one else who will.”

~o~o~o~

After finally receiving the welcome, the-oh-so-longed-for, word from the Admiralty, Captain Aubrey was diligent and unwavering in his search for his doctor. He did at last find him in a lonely copse of an out-of-the-way park, smoking a cigar and looking more miserable than Jack had ever seen him. "Why, Stephen, there you are!" he cried.

Stephen turned, startled. He drew himself up and managed a small smile and a greeting. "Jack, my dear."

"Brother, I am sorry to see you looking so unwell," said Jack, peering searchingly into Stephen's eyes. "You have been burning the candle's ends too hard, I am afraid. I would hope Mrs Broad would look after you more carefully."

"Mrs Broad is the landlady of the world, may God set a flower upon her head, the dear. It is not her fault I do not heed her advice; she has made much the same observations as you have. But, Jack, my dear, you have come in search of me, I find. You look very well indeed – you have heard good news, joy?"

"Yes, the best!" Jack's pleasure, dimmed slightly at the poor look of his friend, grew back in brilliance. "We have a ship! The _Bellone_ , an excellent 74, a beautiful sailer for a vessel of her size."

"Jack," said Stephen with unusual hesitancy. "You say 'we'."

"Well, yes, of course," replied Jack, a puzzled frown developing. "Naturally you will sail as my surgeon. Although we fortunately have plenty of time to prepare – she is on her way to Portsmouth, for re-fitting – I thought you would appreciate the earliest notice possible, to arrange your affairs, your patients here."

Stephen was shaking his head, his eyes unable to meet Jack's, but gazing off to the distance. "I am so sorry, I thought you must realise – that you must understand, joy – I can no more sail with you, as surgeon, as a friend, than we can continue in the same residence. I can of course recommend a number of –"

Jack interrupted, "No! No, this is intolerable! I have given way to all your scruples, but this one – I won't tolerate it! There is no earthly reason..." his voice trailed off as the very earthy reasons came to him. But those implications were so hideous; no wonder he hadn't thought of it; but of course he should have seen it before, but it couldn't have been faced, he couldn't have been forced to choose. Stephen had seen it, Stephen had realised, had foreseen...

Stephen forced his limbs still, the trembling to cease; clamped down on his features, lips tight. He hated burdening others with his emotions; bad enough he should go about like reanimated dead, incurring the constant inquiries into his own health, but facing Jack, every word twisting like another knife reopening the wounds – he wouldn't, he couldn't let the tears fall now.

Jack turned back to the doctor. _Stephen had foreseen_ – "You knew! You knew what would happen – all your cautions against the cure – you never wanted me to take it!" His eyes widened in a kind of horror. "Kevin was no accident! And all your talk of the benefits of breastfeeding – you bastard..." the word slipped out without thought, "You wanted me to stay female forever; keep me on land – you would prefer that to – " Jack turned away. All the hurt, all the anger, with no other object for it – railing against Fate was futile, every sailor knew; was he to be angry at himself for being a man? Stephen should not be a target either, but there was no other, and in his sudden pain, where else was it to go?

"Good-bye, then," the captain spoke shortly, and strode away.

Stephen slumped back against the tree. The parting was inevitable; it had been, of course, ever since Fleming's discovery: the rest was written. He had simply hoped it did not have to be bitter, as well.


	3. Chapter 3

The Bay of Biscay, cold and gloomy with lowering clouds and shrieking winds. The captain paced the _Bellone_ 's quarterdeck, face stern and dark as the waves rolling against the ship's sides as she herself paced back and forth on blockade duty. Back and forth, counting out his three miles daily, even without the worn ring-bolt of the _Surprise_ 's deck to mark his turn, nor the surgeon to harass him about his weight, his eating, and his exercise. A dark face not lightened by these thoughts, nor even by the sight of the dispatch vessel with mail. It would be pleasant to hear again from Sophie, of course, but as everyone was doing well last he'd heard, truly 'new' news could only be bad; so the best he could hope was more reports of the same – new teeth in Kevin's mouth, or perhaps even new words; Peter managing the stairs, throwing a ball – would he be breeched yet? There would be still yet some time before the vessel made its approach; the mail delivered and sorted by the flagship; boats called out from each ship. No rush, and Jack was in no hurry. 

The mailbag did finally reach his hand, and that hand drew forth a bulky letter in a painfully familiar handwriting. Something clenched about Jack's middle, and suddenly it was very urgent that he read his mail without the loss of a minute. Sorting through the bag as quickly as he, his premier, and his clerk could, the captain was glad no orders had come, nothing naval that need take precedence.

The cabin to himself at last, he tore open the envelope, noted absently that it was dated from Boston, and read:

_My dear Sir,_

_I hope this finds you well. I write to beg your assistance with a financial matter of some urgency. As this issue has considerable impact on the future financial welfare of our mutual children, it is my hope that both you and the Navy will be willing to indulge me with the loan of your time. I need to withdraw the bulk of my funds maintained in my bank in Corunna. I would be very much obliged if you would write to me regarding the outcome of my request at your earliest convenience._

_Enclosed you will find further information and all necessary documents for the transaction._

_I am, my dear Sir,_  
Your humble obedient servant,  
Stephen Maturin 

The cutter that had retrieved the _Bellone_ 's mail was not yet back aboard when the order came to ready it for a return to the flag. Jack was changed into his number one uniform and in the boat just as it returned to the water. Whilst the front part of his mind made these routine arrangements, the bulk of his thoughts whirled in turmoil: Could Stephen possibly believe that Jack would _not_ do his very utmost to assist him in whatever he asked? Stephen had not written in so long – and not at all directly to Jack, who had heard only through Sophie – and he was an indifferent correspondent. They had not parted on the best of terms – Jack had much to regret – but they were both so swept up in their own work: Jack in readying the _Bellone_ ; Stephen in going over to America to assist in applying the cure there. What could this urgent financial matter be? Stephen must know he could always count on Jack's purse as his own, and Jack's purse was well these days, capable of supporting Stephen's moderate needs, as well as those of the children. So formal in his request, so diffident and uncertain in its reception – could Stephen believe this separation, the necessary evil that he had himself insisted upon, would have resulted in some fundamental break in their friendship?

In any case, Jack would certainly see the request completed – whatever Stephen needed. He hoped to do so with the blessing of the admiral, but he would proceed regardless. Anything that could drive Stephen to break a six-month silence was clearly of critical importance to him, and therefore to Jack as well.

On deck of the flagship Jack could hardly refrain from pacing again, waiting for the admiral to see him. He answered Captain Fanshawe's remarks at random, head still all a-whirl. His letters from home had indeed been filled only with the typical developments – the minor traumas of a healthy childhood, the normal squabbles of domestic life.

“Well, well, well, Captain Aubrey, requesting leave again? You have just returned from Parliamentary leave, is that not so?”

“Yes, my Lord. I much regret having to request leave so soon, but this matter is of an urgent personal nature – I only just received word of the crisis.”

“A personal crisis? I'll need to hear more. You would not credit what some officers consider a personal crisis – a daughter eloped, for instance. Not much to be done after the knot's tied, now is there? Where's the crisis in that, I ask you?”

Jack could imagine, but refused to let his thoughts down that path. He could not afford distractions. “It concerns my former spouse, my Lord,” he began.

“Mrs Aubrey? Former? I thought you had remarried, now you have been cured?”

“No, my Lord, I refer to my – my former husband, the – the father of my two youngest sons. The matter also affects them.” Jack hated the hesitant, stuttering sound of his response; but it had always been, and was still, so awkward thinking of himself as having had a 'husband', to think that his children had a father besides himself. He hoped mentioning the children would increase the close personal nature of the business, and its urgency. He knew Lord Stranraer thought highly of his own younger family connections and providing for them monetarily when he could.

“Your former – Ah, that would be Dr Maturin, correct? We miss him very much in the Navy, you know. Admirable surgeon and physician. I understand he is treating the turned on land – very well for them, but great loss to us, indeed. So your urgent need of leave regards Dr Maturin? Well, we must make allowance for that, I suppose. I don't believe the dispatch-vessel has left us yet – it goes back to Portsmouth – you could travel back on it, that should suit your urgency with great despatch, yes? Ha!”

Fortunately the admiral's way of ploughing on meant Jack did not have long to reflect on how very much he also missed Dr Maturin, in the Navy or on land. “My Lord, I am most obliged to you for approving my request. However, the matter takes me to the Groyne, rather than back to England. I can sail in my tender, as a private vessel. There's no need to impose any further upon the Navy.”

“Spain!” Lord Stranraer looked sharply at Jack. “Yes, then certainly you must proceed as soon as ever you can. Take your tender, very well. Make it so, Aubrey!”

~o~o~o~

The sun was setting as the _Ringle_ glided down the Boston Harbour, but Captain Aubrey was not admiring the golden oranges, amber yellows, and copper reds the dying light cast against the remaining clouds. He was rifling through his mental chart drawers for the markers and turnings to the Asclepia. Jack had spent his only previous visit to Boston under the excellent care of Dr Choate, but he had traveled to the hospital only once or twice in conscious memory, and those times in company with a guide in Boston's gloom and fog. However, this evening the air was brisk and the fog light, the Asclepia not far from the harbour – Jack remembered vividly watching the shipping, both merchant and men-of-war, fit and re-fit, load and unload, during the wartime Royal Navy blockade.

No blockade now, America and Britain in a settled peace, and Jack could simply ask the way. Yet he was in a hurry, having had no word from Stephen since his urgent missive two months ago, and the more helpful citizens were likely to be inside, dark having fully descended by the time _Ringle_ docked.

The lamplighters had been and gone and Jack found his feet remembered the way without difficulty. Few people were out, the harbour area being much busier in the morning. Jack found his eyes drawn to the lone figure of a woman striding the cobbled streets ahead of him. She moved in a brisk, businesslike manner, and that, in addition to her severe manner of dress, appeared to ward off any less than respectful remarks the loiterers outside the pubs might have been inclined to make. Whilst the majority of Jack's thoughts were concerned with meeting Stephen again, for the first time in nearly a year, and how Stephen might receive him and what Jack might say; and another, much smaller, part of his mind was focused on the navigating the streets; he gradually became aware that the plain nature and simple cut of the lady's dress did little to disguise her trim figure and elegant posture. Subsequently he realised they both had been tracing the same route for some turnings and she had become aware of his following her. Jack was sorry to be a cause for her anxiety, but he couldn't help it; evidently their paths ran together. Possibly she was a nurse at the Asclepia; she had an indefinable medical air about her. However it was, the gentleman in Jack had no desire to alarm her by appearing to stalk behind her and he was unlikely to overtake her, unaccustomed to walking on land as he was and she moving at such a brisk pace herself. He forced himself to slow down despite his hurry of spirits; let her draw ahead and hope she took a different turn soon.

This she soon did, darting abruptly into an alley. Relieved, Jack sped up his own steps to pass the alley, only to find himself seized by one hand and facing a short but very sharp knife held in another. He looked down into the face of the woman who now threatened him, and his first thought was that she was remarkably ugly for possessing such a pleasant figure. His second thought led to his singularly sweet smile splitting wide his face as he cried, “Why, Stephen, there you are!”

Stephen himself stood frozen in astonishment as Jack, heedless of the knife still lurking under his chin, brought his arms around Stephen in a crushing embrace. “My God, Stephen, my love, how I have missed you!”

“And I you, my dear,” said Stephen, as soon as he could recover his composure and breath. This he was not to maintain for long, as Jack cupped the back of Stephen's head and lowered his own to claim Stephen's mouth in a passionate kiss. Briefly Stephen allowed himself to relax in Jack's arms, closing his eyes and savouring the feel of Jack's generous lips. Then he forced himself to push against Jack's chest with the hand still trapped between them, careful of the knife likewise caught, now dangerously caressing Jack's laryngeal prominence. “I too am quite happy to see you, joy; however, may I suggest we continue our conversation in a somewhat more private, more comfortable location?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Jack, feeling a flush rise at his heedless behaviour. What had he been thinking, groping at Stephen in such a way, on the open street, like any drunken sailor with his brute? He hadn't been thinking, obviously – struck completely by surprise by Stephen's appearance. Now he tucked his particular friend's hand in his own arm, and they proceeded on to the Asclepia.

There they were greeted at the door by the porter, the most excellent porter, the same as had been present at Jack's previous stay. Jack smiled, disregarding the man's professionally stern expression, recognising a friend, though he had failed ever to learn the man's name.

“This is my friend, Captain Aubrey,” Stephen introduced. “He stayed here several years ago, as you may recall. Is there perhaps a room he can have for the night? I am hesitant to disturb Dr Choate this late.”

“I remember Captain Aubrey very well,” replied the porter. “I am certain accommodation can be found. Dr Choate would be most perturbed for a valued guest to be turned away.”

“I too am certain accommodation can be found,” said Jack. “I can very easily stay in Dr Maturin's room.” At Stephen's disapproving frown Jack continued easily, “After all, as we are married, it is the most natural arrangement.”

“Married!” The porter's solemn face broke into a rare but sweet smile. “My best wishes for you both. I am certain you will be very happy together.”

“Oh yes, we are,” assured Jack.

Simultaneously Stephen exclaimed, “No such thing! There is no marriage.”

The porter looked confused and worried, frowning at Jack.

“Why, of course there is, Stephen! It was at your insistence that we got married, too, I believe. Will you have us having been living in sin all these years, after all?”

“Pshaw! That was before – before your recovery. Which invalidated the marriage, as you well know.”

“What I know,” said Jack easily, “is that England invalidates any marriage not between a man and a woman. As we are currently a man and a woman, I maintain our marriage is perfectly valid under law.”

Stephen was unconvinced and the porter sympathetic but hesitant.

“Did you sign any papers dissolving our union?” asked Jack. “I did not. I never saw any such papers.”

Slowly, Stephen shook his head.

“Well, then!” cried Jack triumphantly. “There you have it! I am your husband, and I do hope you will not make me sleep in a separate room tonight, after we have been parted for so very long.”

Stephen still looked dissatisfied, lips pursed; but Jack recognised it as the look he customarily bore on losing an argument, versus one of actual unhappiness with the outcome.

In the end, Jack carried the day by simply lifting Stephen into his arms and following the directions provided by the porter, Stephen protesting all along the brief passage down the hall. 

“Your soul to the devil, Jack Aubrey! Put me down this instant!” 

This Jack did, as soon as they crossed the threshold, but Stephen still found himself encircled in Jack's arms as Jack worked to divest him of his clothes whilst kissing him passionately. Stephen turned his head and worked his mouth free long enough to say, “Will you not leave off this incessant pawing at me for even one moment? What is your hurry, for all love?”

“For all love, quite. It has been too long, Stephen, my love, far far too long.” The clothing continued to pile on the floor.

“Am I to understand you have fully recovered, then?”

“Oh, yes! You will soon conduct as thorough an examination as you please into my performance,” said Jack with a wicked leer.

“In that case your clothes must come off too, my dear,” said Stephen. Jack was in full agreement, and his garments quickly joined Stephen's on the floor.

Jack made free with Stephen's body once again to lift him into the bed, covering him instantly. He continued his kisses whilst exploring Stephen's new curves. His caresses were sure but gentle, testing Stephen's sensitivity. Which was sensitive indeed, if the gasps and undulations were anything to go by. Perhaps this was all so new to him; Stephen's nipples had never been of particular interest before, to either of them. Jack remembered adjusting to his own breasts, when they developed. Sometimes even the simple brush of clothes over them had been enough to arouse him, although eventually he adjusted. Now he lavished attention of Stephen's delightful buds. Stephen's body – at once so familiar but yet with these delightful new developments, Jack longed to learn him all over, like surveying a new bay. Jack's lips brushed over the scar that ran across Stephen's chest, the constant reminder of the duel with Canning. The scar was as faded as before, perhaps even more so, but it distorted Stephen's left breast somewhat. Not in a very noticeable or unpleasant way, but in a lovely idiosyncratically Stephenish way. 

Jack continued to move down Stephen's body, unrestrained by any gestures from Stephen, who now had his hands tangled in Jack's hair, and was gently caressing his head and stroking his cheeks. Jack kissed Stephen's belly, softer and just a little rounder than before. He noted the way Stephen's waist dipped in more, whilst his hips widened a bit, a little extra padding making for a much more comfortable handhold. Why, this was marvelous! It had been so long since Jack made love to a woman – to a woman's body. His delight in his relations with Stephen, the intimacy of their marriage, had left him without any interest in pursuing any others, and it had never occurred to him to miss the shape of a woman, happy as he had always been with Stephen, whatever shape he was in.

All the luscious opportunities afforded by the female shape came rushing upon Jack now, thrilling him exceedingly as they were combined with making love to Stephen at the same time. Jack's hand spread the still slim but now curvier thighs apart, and nestled his nose and mouth in the sparse silken curls of the mound between. He inhaled the strong Stephen smell, now imbued with a feminine muskiness. Jack pressed the tip of his tongue between the outer lips, to tickle the sensitive heated flesh beneath.

“Oh!” he heard Stephen gasp, and his thighs spread further, whilst his groin arched up. 

Jack smiled, his mouth still against those outer lips, then pursed his lips and blew strongly down the slit.

“Jack Aubrey!” came the cry, half-way between shocked and aroused. Stephen's hands pressed Jack's head down.

Jack smiled again, and began nibbling, gently, the plump outer labial folds. Stephen moaned, and writhed, spreading his thighs ever wider.

“Wanton,” thought Jack, happily. Using his fingers to hold Stephen open, he began licking the tender inner lips, from the vaginal opening to the sensitive nub at the top, swirling and licking back down again. Teasing the nub with his finger, he licked as deeply as he could into the vagina, then switched, using his tongue and lips to lave and pull on the clitoris, and his fingers to thrust inside Stephen's passage. Stephen's hips were now rocking in an insistent rhythm. Jack worked hard to keep his own hips still; instead using mouth and hands to match and encourage Stephen's eagerness. Everything he'd learnt from having a woman's sex, from having Stephen stimulate and arouse him, he put to use now. Without warning Stephen's body clenched, all his muscles tightening, and Jack could feel the little shudders flowing through him in waves. Jack stayed in place, holding still until he felt the muscles soften and relax again. Jack turned his head to the side and kissed the silken smooth skin of the inner thighs. 

Stephen embraced his shoulders and drew him up, bringing his head down for lavish kisses interspersed with murmurings of Catalan endearments. Jack's legs were between Stephen's still-spread thighs, and his cockhead nudged at Stephen's opening. “All right, my dear?” Jack asked.

“Yes, yes,” said Stephen impatiently, one hand on Jack's broad buttocks to encourage him to thrust in. Both gasped as Jack did so, sliding easily through the wet passage. Stephen's eyes flew open and Jack watched his face with wonder as he felt the tight warmth engulf him. Stephen wrapped his legs tightly about Jack's hips, his own hips rocking again to urge him on to greater and greater thrusts. 

Jack was happy to oblige. In a moment he cried out, “Stephen!” in warning, but it was too late, he was already pulsing out his seed. Stephen drew him down, legs still about his hips, and arms now around his shoulders. He pressed kisses to the side of Jack's neck whilst Jack lay panting. Jack shifted onto his side, aware of the weight of his own bulk pressing down on Stephen's slight frame. Soon after wrapping himself comfortably about his love, he became oblivious to the world.

~o~

Stephen awoke the next morning as Jack was climbing back into bed, presumably having left briefly to relieve himself. With a start Stephen realised he had slept peacefully the entire night though, without resorting to his nightly dose (a dreadful habit he thought he'd rid himself of for good, but had resumed once again after coming to the New World, and had increased since suffering the change). Nor had Jack's habitual snoring disturbed him at all; he must have fallen asleep immediately after their lovemaking. Was it the soporific effect of the post-orgasmic haze? Or the comfort of being once more with Jack? The sex itself had been amongst the best experiences he'd ever had, which surprised him immensely. He knew intellectually that females could enjoy sexual intercourse as much as males – had had firsthand knowledge of seeing that enjoyment in Jack. But Jack was a naturally lusty creature; it was hard to suppose a mere outward change in form would affect his libido.Yet, minus the membrum virile and its sensitivity to stimulation, was the very pinnacle of pleasure achievable?

Apparently it was. Again, Stephen had the physician's and the lover's knowledge that the female anatomy came equipped with an organ corresponding to the penis, and that that organ was highly sensitive, resulting in intense arousal if stimulated correctly; but none of this knowledge had prepared him for the reality of the very truth of it. Stephen had expected his first sexual encounter in his female form to be awkward, distasteful (having a female body still seemed very wrong to him; he had every sympathy with every victim of this plague), even painful. What he had not expected was transports of delight, entirely unselfconscious and without reserve. Even after his own orgasm, feeling Jack's thrusts inside his vaginal passage was intensely pleasurable – more so than he could ever have thought. Males became too sensitive after orgasm, and then quickly lost arousal altogether; evidently females remained in an aroused state, still susceptible to pleasurable stimulation, in multiple areas of the body, no less. He remembered the hair of Jack's chest, rubbing against his tender nipples – Was the pleasure the novelty of experiencing sex in this new form? Was it from the wonder of having Jack back in his arms? Would the pleasure wear off, as this state of affairs became the norm; or could it possibly intensify, as he came to know better his feelings and reactions in his modified body?

Jack was curled around him once more, but not asleep, as evidenced by the quietness of his breathing. Perhaps Jack thought him still asleep, or perhaps he was enjoying the quiet. Stephen had had enough of quiet reflection: now he needed answers. 

Without preamble Stephen turned towards Jack and embraced him, kissing him passionately. Jack had put his shirt back on sometime during the night, now Stephen scrabbled to lift it off.

“Hey, hey!” said Jack, with an affectionate leer. “Who is incessantly pawing at whom, now?”

“If making uncouth witless remarks is the best use you can think of for your mouth, I could provide you with options more appropriate to this occasion,” said Stephen, still working the shirt over Jack's head and off one arm.

Jack smiled again, and sliding out from the rest of his shirt, slipped beneath the covers and down Stephen's body.

Afterwards, Stephen enjoyed the satiated glow, but basked without answers to his previous questions. No matter; he would learn over time. There was another question, unrelated to matters of sex, that had been nagging at him since last night – indeed, since first seeing Jack. What was it? It had been knocked from his brain along with nearly every other thought as soon as Jack kissed him. Ah that's right – Why was Jack here? Had he been sent here by the Royal Navy? If so, why was he sleeping out of his ship?

Stephen slid his gaze to his lover's face. Jack must have slept well last night too, for he was still awake, face glowing with contentment through its recent lines of careworn anxiety. “Jack, my dear,” began Stephen, “as delighted as I am to have you here – and nothing could make me happier, joy – I cannot help but wonder what has brought you to Boston. Last I heard Britain was still at war with France, and I do not believe New England is an arena of battle at this time.”

“Why, Stephen,” said Jack, sitting up a little, “I am here because you wrote to me, of course. You wrote of having urgent financial concerns.”

“Yes, and so I did, but I do not recall asking for a personal visit.”

“My dear Stephen, you can hardly expect me to stand idly by, beating off and on Ushant, whilst you are in difficulties! Naturally I came myself, to be certain that you are all right.”

“As you can see, I am perfectly all right; at least in regards to matters with which you can assist me. But, Jack, did you follow the instructions that I did send?” Stephen said, somewhat waspishly.

“Of course I did! I removed the funds from the bank in the Groyne, as you requested. There was little difficulty in that, the papers you provided having been all in order. Most of the funds are now in your account at Hoare's, and some I have brought with me, for you immediate needs.”

“That is very good in you, I am sure; but I have no immediate needs for additional funds. I required my wealth removed from the Spanish bank only because they frown upon even turned women having their own accounts, and I was concerned that with no near male relatives in Spain it might all have been confiscated.” Stephen's tone softened. “But indeed, my dear, it is so very good to be with you once again.”

“Oh, Lord, yes,” said Jack, embracing Stephen tightly again. “Do let us never be parted again. Not like that. I could hardly bear it when you left me. I will have us be married by the Pope himself; I will even leave the Navy, I don't care – so long as we can be together.”

Hearing the intent in Jack's speech, Stephen forbore to point out that technically, it was Jack who had left _him_. “Yes, my dear, I am in complete agreement with you; fortunately neither of those extremes you mentioned is required. I would however recommend that we do get married again, regardless of the arguments you made last night, just to remove any questions or concerns anyone should have.”

“Yes, yes, certainly; where and when you wish. Here or in England or both; I will marry you as often as you wish.” 

“Might I take it, from your insistence upon our union still being legal, that nothing came of the notion of your re-marrying Sophie?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I'm not sure how serious I was about that; it was just a thought. There were these uncomfortable insinuations, whenever I was down at Woolcombe, with Di being away so often; but neither Sophie nor I want the children raised anywhere else, you understand. Especially not George, or the twins. Why, Charlie, the eldest, she – I mean, he – may stand to inherit, you know, depending upon how Parliament and the lawyers wrangle out the rules. Lord, so complicated. In any case, my idea was more for the convenience of it; to silence the neighbourhood busybodies, you know. But it all came to nothing, as you observed. Apparently, the attachment between Sophie and Di is much stronger than I had realised,” Jack added, a little sheepishly. He sat up against the headboard and pulled Stephen back to lay against his chest, Stephen's back to his front. Arms clasped lightly about Stephen's waist, Jack said, somewhat hesitantly, “Now that I have satisfied your curiosity, will you answer an impertinent question from me?”

“You wish to know why I have turned.” Stephen sighed. It was remarkable, and a testament both to Jack's discretion and his knowledge of his longtime friend, that he had not asked earlier.

“Of course you need not say anything, my dear; it is just that from all I had heard, your work here in curing the plague has been remarkably successful – why, you have been able to cure people in the first fever, before they have even turned! An amazing accomplishment.”

“All you say is true. However, the ability to treat victims in the first throes of the febrile state did not come to us immediately.”

Within days of his arrival in America, Dr Maturin had started working with numerous local doctors, instructing them in how to treat the already-turned, as was being done all over Europe. The initial epidemic of the plague had already swept through most of the Old World; only in very few remote pockets were new victims falling to it. However, the disease had only relatively recently made its way to the Americas, and not far from the major cities it was just reaching the more rural towns and villages. Stephen, along with a pair of American physicians, had ventured into one of those afflicted areas, hoping to cure victims before they turned, not to mention prevent the deaths of those in whom the sickness took a lethal turn. Unfortunately he himself had fallen ill very quickly, although he had not been too concerned, having a great respect for his fellow doctors. However, despite their skill, the physic and methods that cured the already-turned apparently reduced the viciousness of the disease in new victims, but did not stop its course altogether. Stephen recovered from his infection – a milder bout than most suffered – but he still turned. Through further research and trials, he and his colleagues discovered that much higher doses of physic were required to cure victims during the initial fever. The lower doses found effective on the already-turned increased the survival rate of initial victims, but did not prevent the turning.

Particularly unfortunate for Stephen and a few others who fell ill before they learnt of the need for the higher dosing, the lower dose, although ensuring their survival of the fever, seemed to give them, or the disease still afflicting them, some sort of immunity. No matter how high the dosing, nothing would rid them of the disease altogether; nothing would cause them to return to their natural forms. 

Jack was silent during Stephen's recounting. At the end he hugged Stephen tighter to him. “Perhaps another treatment, a new physic, will be discovered?” he said. “There are others too, I know, for whom the treatment doesn't work.”

“Yes, it is possible,” acknowledged Stephen. “No one expected a cure of any kind to be found, let alone so quickly. You bore your state – so many have endured it – with good grace and humour; I hope to do no less.”

“Ah, enduring the bearing – I did wonder why you were so anxious to engage in relations again this morning,” said Jack in a teasing tone.

Stephen sat up. “Jack Aubrey, if you have impregnated me – !”

Jack laughed, “Then Peter and Kevin will have a younger brother or sister.”

Stephen turned to glare at him, then sighed and leant back again.

“Is it so very bad, for you?” asked Jack tentatively.

Stephen thought on his experiences of the previous night and this morning. “I may perhaps become reconciled to it, in time.”


End file.
